DC Earth 25 Story-Old Soldiers and their Sins
by AzureSpider
Summary: Alternate universe with many purposeful differences from the comics. Across Gotham City, veterans from the Vietnam War are turning up dead. As Batman and Catwoman race to both stop the murders and also figure out who the killer is, they uncover evidence of a decades-old crime that now at last forty years later is coming into the light. But in Gotham City, lights cast dark shadows.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: Hadn't actually planned to post this particular fan-fic here, but as it's finished and I liked writing it, I decided "what the hell?" and have decided to post it here after all. Set in an alternate DCU. Expect differences from mainstream continuity. A lot of differences. That was the point. If you don't like that, you may wish to stop here. Otherwise, read on and enjoy.**

 **Oh, and, expect numerous references to not just the comics but other DC continuities as well, such as** _ **Arrow**_ **and the widely hated but in my opinion occasionally good** _ **Gotham**_ **TV** **show. Enjoy!**

 _Gotham City, 2013_

Catwoman gasped in pain.

She could feel acutely each and every one of the wounds from the cuts she'd been dealt by Prometheus' sword and other weapons. Each cut was deep, all of them having managed to cut through her catsuit, and she was at risk of bleeding out if she didn't find help fast.

Catwoman instinctively shot a look behind her. There was indeed a trail of blood, with the blood steaming on the ground as the night air made it's cold and unwelcome presence known. This just made the cuts sting all the more. Catwoman paused, and slumped down as she took stock of both the full extent of her injuries and also where she was. From the street signs and some vaguely familiar buildings, Catwoman estimated that she had easily over thirty blocks to go before she got anywhere close to Bruce's home. And, considering her injuries, Catwoman wasn't confident she could ever make _ten_ blocks, let alone thirty.

She had several small cuts on her arms, a long, ugly slash across her back, several puncture wounds from being stabbed in the back and in the side, and a laceration across her leg that more than anything else made walking with anything but a limp difficult, to say the least.

 _Running and fighting in high heels, I can handle._ Catwoman thought with a grimace as she instinctively looked at the black leather high-heeled boots in question. _...but running with an injury like this one, that's something else._

She'd taken quite a few punches and kicks too, and had the bruises to show for them. She was pretty sure a few of her bones were fractured, and in particular, two of her ribs were cracked. As Catwoman took in all of these injuries, she began to feel light-headed, and then suddenly threw up, leaving a puddle of bile on the floor. The bile was also tinted red with the blood in her mouth, more of which ran down her lips and chin and made the former redder than usual. And it wasn't cosmetics this time.

 _Come on, Selina. You have to get up. Have to keep moving. You've come too far just to die in an alleyway now…_

Forcing herself up, Catwoman nearly threw up again but this time forced the rank bile back down her throat, regretted doing so, and then spat out some more of the blood in her mouth. After this, Catwoman continued to hobble along under the fog-concealed moon, as she did thinking back to the events that led up to this moment…

 _Six Days Earlier_

"Damn." Catwoman noted simply as she observed the headless corpse sitting in a chair that had several arrows sticking into it. Said corpse was an older man, probably around sixty-five or so, and judging by the condition of his home, he hadn't been a very wealthy or attentive sixty-five year old. Catwoman hadn't found the victim's head yet, and she was hoping she never would. She'd leave that to her long-time lover who was currently doing what he did best; being the World's Greatest Detective.

"Slash marks on the severed neck stump and on the head are consistent with a sword. Medium-length blade, single-edged. Lightweight to allow for swift strikes and ease of movement. Point was probably such that the wielder could work with it in addition to the edge."

"But it looks like they went with the edge this time."

"Yes, indeed." Batman said with a nod before kneeling before the headless corpse to examine it. "Arrows penetrated the chest, but none of them have hit a vital organ. Whoever shot him didn't want him dying right away."

"So they wanted him to suffer? Jesus…"

"Yes. This is the sort of killing that has a lifetime of hatred fueling it."

"Any idea of what caused that hatred?"

"Not yet." Batman admitted, standing up in full and showcasing his armored batsuit in all it's glory. The suit was all a mix of black, silver, and gray with a pinch of red, and featuring a long, black cape, armored gauntlets with scalloped blades, and a full-face covering helmet with opaque visor and pointy ears. The symbol of a bat was on the front of, proudly displayed on a chest that had some pronounced armor-plating, the kind of thing Catwoman eschewed in favor of a form-fitting black and red leather catsuit with black high-heeled boots and long, black leather gloves that covered most of her arms and ended in claws. She looked at Batman expecting him to say something more, and as always, he didn't disappoint her.

"I did find several things worth noting though."

"Such as?"

"The victim's name is Tom De La Croix."

"Sounds french."

"Yes. Last name means 'from the cross'. Family has been historically religious, conservative, and patriotic to a fault. Judging by the pictures on one of the walls and military insignias I found in one of his drawers, it's safe to assume that he served. All evidence points to Vietnam."

Catwoman didn't flinch upon hearing that, but privately the mention of Vietnam made her think of her father and his time there. He had served in Vietnam, and it was where he had met Selina's mother. These memories in turn gave way to more painful ones, ones that made parts of her skin quiver and crawl from where she remembered her father's alcohol-fueled blows, and her heart sag and ache any time she thought of her mother. That beautiful but sad woman in a country not her own and trapped in a nightmare marriage.

"So, our victim is a Vietnam War Veteran, and someone decided to stick three arrows into him before chopping off his head...do you think it might be because of something he did in Vietnam?"

"Probably, but I won't know for sure until I check La Croix's service records, and it will take Oracle time to hack into those. I'll let you know when I find something."

"Well, in the meantime, I'd like very much to get the hell out of here. Shocking as it may sound, but I really don't like standing next to a headless body in a chair."

And so, Batman and Catwoman left after the former carefully recorded everything he and his lover had noticed that was of relevance. As they left though, a masked man with a bow, quiver, and sword watched them leave, before silently vanishing himself.

 _Back in the present_

"So...explain to me again how I let you drag me into this?" Nightwing asked as he looked out at the mess of unconscious thugs that were Edward Nashton and the entirety of his gang.

"We were chasing the same man." Batman noted. "If I wanted to split hairs, I could argue that it was _you_ who got in _my_ way."

"Yeah, let's _not_ split hairs then." He looked out and took note in particular of a short, plump man who now had a black eye and a broken arm thanks to a woefully misguided attempt to shoot Nightwing while his back was turned.

"So, I know I got here because I beat information out of one of Nashton's informants. How did _you_ get this far?"

Batman pointed to the unconscious plump man Nightwing had been looking at just before. "Followed him. I knew Mr. Cobblepot was taking bribes from Nashton, and using him and his gang's actions to further his own agenda."

"Wow. A corrupt politician. _Never_ seen one of _those_ before" Nightwing shook his head.

"He wasn't very good at covering his tracks." Batman explained. "Arrogantly assumed that everything he did would work, but in reality he was sloppy. Predictable. Following him was easy."

There was a pause before Nightwing asked Batman: "So, how has the investigation for the Veteran Murders been going?"

"I've managed to cobble together some amount of evidence, but so far, no actual name for our killer. But at the very least, I now have some insight into who the killer _might_ be, and also what the motive almost certainly is."

"Good to know." Nightwing said. "Pretty sure we'll all sleep easier without _that_ bastard on the streets. But, if you've got things from here, it's about time I got back down to my section of Gotham."

" _Your_ section of Gotham?" Batman asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, my section. You're not the only guy in a fancy set of armor who protects this city, old-timer."

"Maybe, but I'm still not convinced that you can call yourself my equal."

"I never said I was." Nightwing replied simply before heading off in the direction of one of Gotham City's especially bad areas. Bad even by Gotham's fantastically low standards. Batman in particular understood that; it was the same area where Crime Alley was.

As Batman handcuffed Edward Nashton and made sure he didn't get away before the police showed up to take him away, he thought about Catwoman. She had gone off after that lead relating to the ongoing "Veteran Murders" as the press were calling them, and she had yet to come back, or give Batman any kind of message or sign. Granted, Catwoman didn't tell him everything in general, and never kept in constant communication with him. But even so, there was something about the long gap in-between his last seeing her and the present that was giving him unease.

 _Then again…_ Batman thought. _...perhaps I'm just letting my...feelings for Selina get the better of me. There's no great reason to be alarmed...yet._

 _Four days earlier_

"Another murder of one of Gotham City's own war veterans, and this one coming so soon after the murder of Tom De La Croix just two days prior. This second victim, Charles Gibbon, was also a veteran of the war in Vietnam, and in fact served in the same division as Tom De La Croix. Is this mere coincidence, or are we seeing the beginning of a pattern? Either way, this anchorwoman's heart goes out to the families of both victims. This is Vicki Vale of Gotham News, and here's hoping that either the police or Batman find the person responsible for these killings."

"Bet the censors cut that last statement of hers short." Catwoman (or Selina Kyle as she was at the moment), said as she turned off the news so she could focus on talking to Batman, who at the moment was Bruce Wayne. Inside his "back-room" within his modest two-story dwelling, he had a billboard that currently had on it everything he had relating to the recent murders.

"I take it _you_ don't think it's a coincidence, do you?" Selina asked. Bruce shook his head. "No. I don't believe in coincidences, Selina. You know that. And even if I did, I wouldn't believe in this one. Two Vietnam War veterans in Gotham, both from the exact same division, and each of them murdered within two days of one another. There's definitely a pattern here, and given that Gotham boasts a population over 10 million strong, there's probably still a few different Vietnam veterans our unknown assassin can target. Whoever this person is, they'll strike again."

"Has Oracle given you anything useful?"

Bruce pretended not to notice the slight edge in Selina's tone when she asked that question. He and Selina were thick as, well, thieves, but she was noticeably touchy where his interactions with other women were concerned. That a deranged, femme fatale terrorist had tried to seduce him once had likely contributed to this.

"Yes, she has. The outfit the two victims served in was a group called 'Easy Company'."

"I thought they were supposed to be from World War II…?"

"They were originally, but the company was maintained come the war in Vietnam. They just replaced the old soldiers with new ones. Although, based on what Oracle's told me, I'd use the term "soldier" very loosely with these people. See for yourself." Bruce tossed Selina a set of dossiers Oracle had (illegally) made copies of for Bruce and Selina's benefit. Selina read through the files one by one.

"Hmm...let's see...Ben Krullen, convicted of assault and battery in 1956, assault and battery again in 1960, and oh, murder and drug possession in 1962. Real charmer."

"Yes. Offered a choice between the chair and military service. As you can see, he chose the latter. That was also how Clifford Zmeck made it into Easy Company despite being a convicted murderer and rapist."

Selina suppressed a natural inclination to spit at that second part before flipping through some of the other dossiers. She took note of the ones for the recent murder victims, as well as the unit's then-commanding officer Slade Joseph Wilson. Then she saw one name in particular and dropped the dossiers right on the floor.

"What is it, Selina?"

Selina looked at Bruce without the usual confidence or sultriness in her gaze but instead sheer, total shock and surprise. "I saw my father's file in there, Bruce. My father was a part of Easy Company."


	2. Chapter 2

_Back in the present_

As it happened, when Nightwing got back to his corner of Gotham City, he ended up chasing something a lot more dangerous than the Joker Gang that called it home.

More specifically, the sight of a lithe, black armored figure flying through the air on a jetpack with a flamethrower held in black leather gloved hands. And where this figure had once been there was now a would-be rapist who had been reduced to a smoldering, charred skeleton. Suffice to say, the drizzle that was starting up didn't exactly do much to put out the lingering flames.

After tending to the woman the man had been attacking before getting fried and making sure she got back to her home safely, Nightwing decided to put the Joker Gang on hold and go after Firefly, knowing the arsonist wouldn't be content with just that one act. His only hope was that he could get to Firefly before the vigilante did something more severe than coming to a woman's rescue. Firefly's approach to fighting crime was sometimes a little too…"proactive" concerning just how exactly it dealt with the bad guys.

 _One of these days, you're gonna commit cold-blooded murder, Firefly. And then I'll have to go and take you down._

Even as the rain got steadily worse, Nightwing could still make out the trail of smoke and embers that Firefly's jetpack had left behind. The thing used up fuel liberally too, meaning that Firefly was frequently having to rob fuel stations to keep the jetpack and flamethrower well-stocked. Supposedly, Firefly had a whole safehouse filled with extra fuel canisters, but try as he might, Nightwing had never managed to find it.

 _Cue the old man saying he could find it for me._ Nightwing thought sourly, which he acknowledged was unfair to the man who had actually inspired him to be what he was now. But, at the moment Nightwing wasn't in the mood for being mindful. At that moment, he just wanted to nab Firefly before the vigilante _really_ crossed the line.

Finally, Nightwing got Firefly in sight again. He could see that the vigilante was staking out a rooftop, observing something in the building across from the one Firefly was that was apparently of great interest. Nightwing closed in on that building just as Firefly went rocketing through the window. Swearing loudly, Nightwing aimed his grapple hook launcher at the window-ledge and fired. The sound of it hitting the ledge got Firefly's attention, the arsonist spinning around just as Nightwing zipped up and kicked Firefly back, his armor weathering the short, instinctive spurt of flame that Firefly let loose as Nightwing got close.

Firefly staggered back from the attack, and Nightwing decided to not give the vigilante a chance to recover. Striking out with his escrima sticks, Nightwing knocked Firefly around a bit before one strike finally managed to knock off the helmet, which clattered to the ground.

Nightwing had to admit, that beneath the glossy black helmet with large, bulbous red eyeholes like those of an insect, she was actually very pretty sans a mild burn scar on her right cheek. There was a lot of youth in her face, her dark hair was thick and healthy-looking (discounting the small part that had been singed off earlier), and when they weren't narrowed with hatred, her brown eyes were large, warm, and still had some lingering innocence left over from before tragedy and abuse had stamped most of it out with contempt.

"Stay out of my way." Firefly snarled, her pretty face becoming ugly with hatred and already those small glimmers of innocence in her eyes vanishing as the vengeful vigilante reasserted herself.

"What, so you can murder someone?" Nightwing asked with a raised eyebrow, as he did taking a look around the room they were all in. One look at the overturned furniture, the damage to the walls, and above all, the bruises the place's female occupant had on her face and her boyfriend looking scared out of his wits by Firefly, told Nightwing what he needed to know.

"That guy's being a piece of garbage aside…" Nightwing said, sheathing his escrima sticks and raising his hands as he did. "...you don't need to murder anyone, Bridgit."

"My name is Firefly!" Bridgit Pike snarled, levelling her flamethrower at Nightwing as a warning for him to not come any closer. "I don't want to hurt you. You're a hero, and you keep this city safe…" Firefly drew a pistol from a holster on her side and aimed it at the domestic abuser before he could exit the room. "...but I'm not letting him go. He's scum and he deserves it, and you know that's true. Him and all of the others like him."

"That guy you fried back there, you were defending someone else. I get that. But what you're about to do here, is murder. Simple as that."

"He deserves it!"

"Yeah. But I'm still not letting you do it."

"You don't have a choice."

But, having anticipated this, Nightwing rapidly drew and hurled one of his escrima sticks at Firefly's pistol hand, knocking the gun askew and throwing off her aim. Nightwing then charged Firefly, who upon being tackled turned her jetpack back on and rocketed out through the open window, grabbing her helmet with her free hand as she did. She went zooming out and as she did let Nightwing fall onto the rooftop the two were above.

By now, the rain was coming down heavily, and Nightwing struggled to keep from slipping as his entire armored costume rapidly became soaking wet. For her part, Firefly re-donned her helmet before landing.

"You let that scum get away! I had him!"

"Yeah, you did. And if it hadn't been for me you'd have gone too far."

"I didn't want to do this…" Firefly said before levelling her pistol at Nightwing, as well as drawing a second pistol from a holster on the opposite leg. Anticipating this, Nightwing either dodged the bullets or deflected them with his reclaimed escrima stick. Seeing him close the distance, Firefly took off on her jetpack again, flying backwards rapidly and going high, high into the air. As she did she fired several shots with her pistols at Nightwing, who rolled forwards to avoid the shots, before retreating behind cover. Knowing he wasn't out of it yet, Nightwing drew and twirled his other escrima stick in anticipation of Firefly's next attack. Sure enough, a thrown thermite grenade prompted Nightwing to throw himself to one side just as the grenade detonated. Nightwing got clear enough of the blast that his armor was only licked by the outer fringes of it, but even that was enough to put his armor's fire-proof composition to the test.

Deciding to turn the tables, Nightwing fired his grapple-hook, managing to nail Firefly. The grapple wrapped itself around Firefly's legs, but she just continued along on her flight path, yanking Nightwing off the ground and dragging him along.

 _Okay, so this was a stupid idea…_

But, Nightwing finally managed to regain his footing, and as Firefly tried to keep flying away, Nightwing wrapped part of the grapple around a support for a water-tank on the rooftop. This caused tension, and it was enough to halt Firefly's flight, as well as cause her to lose control. With a bit more tugging and pulling, Nightwing was able to cause Firefly to crash.

Seizing on his chance, Nightwing ran forwards. Firefly took out one of her pistols and tried to shoot at him, but between recovering from a crash-landing, the heavy rain, and it being a dark night, her aim was off. The bullet whizzed by Nightwing's shoulder, and he kicked Firefly with such force he sent her flying over the edge of the rooftop…with Nightwing's grapple still attached to her.

"Oh, shi-"

Nightwing got yanked along before he could finish his sentence, falling along with Firefly before he pressed a button on his grapple hook launcher that recalled the cable, freeing Firefly from Nightwing and allowing her to flee. Nightwing though, continued to fall, until he fired the grapple hook at the building's edge, which halted his descent.

Looking out, he could see Firefly becoming smaller and smaller off in the distance and shook his head.

 _Damn. She got away. And the old man's definitely gonna give me hell for it too if he finds out._

 _Four days earlier_

Around the same time Bruce and Selina were looking into the murders of the Vietnam War veterans (and Selina learning that her father was part of the same company during his term of service), a priest named Frederick Offenstein left the church for the day.

He began the long, slow walk to his home, which was some distance from the church he preached at, and every time he took the walk he found himself wishing it wasn't so. The cold weather alone was enough to give Frederick that wish, to say nothing for everything else. It was also why he wore such an all-covering trenchcoat over his priest clothes; to the scum of Gotham, such attire made one a target rather than respected.

Frederick quickened his pace, as he did looking around to make sure no one was tailing him. Fortunately, no one was, though Frederick did also note with a frown that no one seemed to be around period. The streets seemed deserted, which was never a good sign in a city as heavily populated as Gotham. Sparse streets meant that most people were going out of their way to be off them, which indicated danger.

 _Be indoors, and with it the illusion of safety. Best follow that example._ Frederick resolved, again quickening his pace. He stopped at a road in-between his position and the next sidewalk, waited for the cars driving by to pass him, and then kept going. The presence of people on the second sidewalk helped to relax Frederick a bit and put him more at ease, but even so, the sound of something unintelligible behind him ensured that he still walked at a relatively brisk pace, not keen on taking any chances.

At long last, Frederick got to the door to his home. He opened it hurriedly, fussing with the key for only a moment before unlocking the door and then shutting it again as he walked into the room. Even as he did these things, he still kept an eye out for anything behind him, paranoid as he was getting.

"I really do need to get a new place closer to the Church…"

Just as Frederick locked the door, an arrow shot through the air like a cruel whisper in the dark before hitting Frederick in the back of his leg. He cried out in pain and fell to his knees.

"Try to call for help or go to the windows, and you get an arrow to the throat."

Frederick whipped around and saw, standing there in the center of the room, an archer garbed in dark colored clothing that seemed to be brownish-black leather worn over chainmail and featuring also gloves, a hood, a quiver full of arrows, and an eerie mask over his face that looked vaguely like the crude, stitched-together heads of scarecrows, or perhaps an effigy about to be set on fire. The arrow he had drawn told Frederick that his threat was not an empty one.

"W-who are you? What do you want? How did you get in here?"

"I'm as good an infiltrator as I am a bowman. To your first question, I'm known by many names." The masked archer said vaguely. "Just as you are, Father Offenstein. Or would you prefer _Corporal Reinhardt?"_

"I...I don't know what you mean…" Frederick stammered, as he did breaking off part of the arrow embedded in him, instead of going with the natural (and foolish), instinct to pull the arrow out.

"Of course you do, Corporal Reinhardt. You know _exactly_ what I mean. Especially after what happened to Tom De La Croix and Charles Gibbon. Even though you really went out of your way to distance yourself from your old war-buddies, I'm sure you still heard about what happened to them... _Corporal_ Reinhardt."

"Stop it! Stop it! Why do you keep calling me that?"

The archer, who had been pacing, circling around the crippled and down Frederick almost like a vulture would, nonchalantly readied his arrow again, aiming it once more at Frederick's throat. "Still trying to lie your way out of it? Not a very good priest, are you? But that _was_ your name, I remember it distinctly, as I saw it on your dogtags once. All those many years ago. In Vietnam, don't you remember? I must say you've gotten very…'out of shape' since then. But I don't know _why_ you decided to change your name from Albert Reinhardt to Frederick Offenstein, move all the way from Keystone City to Gotham, and then become a Priest. Guilty conscience perhaps?"

The archer drew his arrow back all the way, casually doing it despite his bow's draw weight being over 200 pounds. But he drew it back to it's full length as though it weighed nothing at all. "I'm getting tired of this, old man. You _know_ why I'm here. Stop being a coward for once in your life and owe up to your sins."

Frederick, or Albert, bowed his head in assent. "Yes...you're...right. I did sin. That's why I became a priest. I couldn't live with myself after what happened there. So I turned to God, hoping he could grant me forgiveness. But I see now he was just withholding his punishment for me, waiting for the right moment. I guess it's come." He looked up at the masked archer. "I didn't think anyone had survived except for us…"

"That's where you were wrong."

"I suppose I was." Albert said simply. "Do as you will."

"Not just yet. First, you answer one last question for me: where are Clifford Zmeck and Ben Krullen?"

"I don't know."

"Too bad." Prometheus said, before lowering his bow and putting his arrow back in his quiver. Then, he drew his sword, aimed it at Albert Reinhardt's neck, and swung with all his might.

 _Back in the present_

At long last, the rain began to clear up, and between that and putting a good bit of distance between herself and her heroic pursuer, Firefly felt safe in taking off her helmet after landing on a rooftop. The lingering rain gave an odd physical sensation as it hit the exposed part of her head, the place where she'd once had hair. Undeterred by this, Firefly walked to the edge of the rooftop, also checking the fuel readings on her costume; by all appearances, she could probably still take off again and cover a decent number of blocks before she ran out of fuel, and her flamethrower still had plenty left to give too. And, if all else failed, she still had one of her two handguns despite having lost the other, plus a machete still tucked away in it's scabbard behind her jetpack. In all, she wasn't expecting trouble before she got back to her safehouse.

As it was though, Firefly soon got trouble anyway, though not of a violent kind. Instead, as she prepared to take off again, she saw a woman in a red and black leather catsuit that she knew could only be one person. Seeing also that she was clearly staggering and was badly injured, Firefly rocketed down towards her. Catwoman stopped short as she saw her, and tried to get into a fighting stance, but instead she just swayed before collapsing, her injuries getting the better of her.

"Selina? Selina what happened to you!?"

Catwoman made a weak smile. "Good...to see you too...Bridgit…"

Catwoman collapsed completely and lost consciousness. Firefly rushed over to her and checked her pulse. It was weak but still there. Knowing she didn't have much time, Firefly lifted up Catwoman, wrapping both of her arms around her waist and letting her head rest on her shoulder, and took off on her jetpack again. Common sense dictated that Firefly deliver Catwoman to the nearest hospital, but she knew that such places and their sort of Gothamite didn't mix very well. So instead, Firefly decided to take Catwoman to her safehouse. The flight there didn't take long, and once Firefly got there, she dragged Catwoman inside before setting her down on her cot. Once she did that, Firefly began taking off Catwoman's costume and inspecting the full extent of her injuries. She could tell right from the get-go that it was bad.

Taking out what medical supplies she had (supplies that were largely meant to treat burns rather than lacerations or stab wounds), Firefly did what she could to clean and bandage all the injuries, but she knew that that wouldn't be enough. As she was cleaning all the injuries though, Selina's eyes suddenly shot open.

"Where...where am I…?" Selina asked weakly.

"In my safehouse." Firefly said. "You're in bad shape, Selina. You try to move now, you'll never make it to the door. But I can take care of you...or at least try."

"Find Batman…"

"What?"

"Find Batman." Selina repeated, her eyes having an urging and pleading quality that Firefly hadn't seen in them since they were both six or seven years old. "He needs...he needs to know."

"And let him know where my safehouse is? I could lose everything I've stockpiled here. Do you know how hard it would be to set up a new safehouse in a location as good as this one? And how long it would take to make up for all of the fuel he'd confiscate?"

"Find. Batman." Selina urged, this time more forcefully.

"Dammit." Firefly said, shaking her head. "Fine, I'll let him know you're here... _after_ I finish cleaning and bandaging all these wounds, and finding a hiding place for at least some of my fuel canisters. No way am I letting all of this go to waste…"

"You...you still love fire too damn much, Bridgit." Selina said with a weak smile before shaking her head sadly. "I still remember when you couldn't stand fire."

"I remember that too, even though I don't want too." Firefly said bitterly. "I was so scared and pathetic and weak back then. But this…" Firefly pointed to her flamethrower. "...this made me strong."

"You were so much sweeter back in those days…" Selina mumbled wistfully before her injuries overwhelmed her and she started to pass out again. That Firefly was giving her some anesthetic to dull the pain contributed greatly to this. "...so compassionate, so kind...so...warm."

Selina finally fell asleep completely, and Firefly sighed in relief. She placed one black leather gloved hand on Selina's shoulder as gently as she could. "Don't die, Selina. You're my best friend. The only one I've ever had."

 _Three days earlier_

"Good christ." Muttered Commissioner James Gordon as he beheld the crime scene photos of Albert Reinhardt/Frederick Offenstein's (very messy) death by sword.

"Yes, I think that's just what the priest was thinking too." Deadpanned Officer Renee Montoya, the policewoman who Gordon had appointed as head of the investigations.

"Not funny, Montoya." Gordon said before shaking his head. "This is the third one. And let me guess; _he's_ a Vietnam War Veteran too?"

"Yeah. Turns out he changed his name and moved here after the war. Used to be Albert Reinhardt of Keystone City before he was Father Offenstein."

"Great." James Gordon sighed as he massaged his temples and shut his eyes tightly. "Three Vietnam vets living in Gotham City, all dead within a couple of days of each-other."

"It's worse than that, actually." Came a new voice, this one from GCPD Lieutenant (and Gordon's long-time confidante), Harvey Bullock as he walked up to him. "I just got off the phone with the MPD, and the CCPDs of Coast City and Central City before them. _And_ also SCPD before that."

"Yes, and…?"

"...and all of them have had to deal with recent veteran killings too. Two in Metropolis, one in Central City, one in Star City, and three in Coast City."

"And our current bodycount brings it all to ten." Gordon noted grimly. "Damn. Who on Earth could be doing this? Going from city to city across the country killing war vets. And for what? What's the gain?"

"Maybe there isn't one." Renee Montoya said. "...except satisfaction."

"You think this is all some kind of revenge killing?"

"They're all from the same unit, we found that much out. And why else would someone go to this much trouble?" Renee asked. "Hunting people down from city to city like you said. It's a lot of work. I think whoever's doing this is out for blood, plain and simple. I don't know what these veterans did while they were down in Vietnam, but I bet you it wasn't anything good."

James Gordon considered what Montoya had told him before shaking his head. "Press must be having a field day over this."

"That's not our only problem, Commissioner."

"What do you mean?"

"See for yourself." Montoya deadpanned before showing Gordon how the lobby of the GCPD was now flooded with several men in their seventies, early eighties, and late sixties who all looked like they'd seen better days, and who were yelling at the officers trying to calm them.

"More veterans, I take it?"

Renee Montoya nodded. "News travels fast in this city, sir. All of them are afraid they'll be next and they want us to protect them."

"I'd feel better actually having the maniac doing this in handcuffs, or alternatively put down. Then we can _all_ breath more easily."

After ordering her and Bullock to do their best to contain the situation with the veterans, Gordon decided to go outside to the GCPD's rooftop to get some air...and also to meet with a certain someone.

"I take it you already know everything we do?" James Gordon asked conversationally. Batman nodded. "I do, yes. All of the victims are Vietnam War veterans, all of them killed by the same kind of sword based on the pictures I've analyzed."

"Don't even want to know where or how you got those pictures…" He turned to look at Batman directly, as he did noting again how much the helmet that covered his entire face unnerved him. "...you know several other cities have had recent veteran killings too, right?"  
Batman shook his head. "I didn't know, actually. But I'm glad you told me. All from Vietnam?"

Gordon nodded sadly. "Not sure what to do at this point. We have no way of knowing who the killer is. No blood at any of the crime scenes except the victim's. Forensics found a few stray fibers left over, but nothing that will point us in any kind of meaningful direction. Whoever this killer is, they're a professional. In, out, all done quickly and without a fuss."

"Based on the lack of a struggle in all three cases, I suspect that each of the victims was surprised when they first saw the killer…" Batman noted. "...and that was all the opening he, or she, needed to cripple them with arrows before decapitating them."  
"Do you think all the victims knew their killer?"

"Possibly." Batman said. " _Or_ the sight of the killer was so shocking it caused them a fatal moment of surprise."

"Maybe someone who's got a...taste for the theatrical like you."

"Also possible." Batman conceded with a nod. "But I can't be sure of anything without more proof."

"Well, I sure as hell hope you get some fast. Because as of now me and the rest of the GCPD are completely clueless." Gordon shook his head as he stepped down hard on the cigarette he had let drop to the ground. "Now I know how North California felt in the 60s and 70s. Or hell, how _England_ must have felt when Jack the Ripper was running around."

"We'll find him, Jim." Batman promised.

"I hope we do. This may not be the first serial killer Gotham's had, but whoever's doing this isn't like that Harley Quinn lunatic from a couple years back. _She_ practically wanted everyone to know who it was killing those people. She was _proud_ of it. This killer though, they're being careful. Methodical." Gordon shook his head. "I _hate_ careful and methodical serial killers."

On a separate rooftop, the archer watched Batman and Gordon talking, doing so out of costume so as to avoid attracting attention to himself. He smiled as he watched them, and then turned around and disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

_Back in the present_

"You're not one for subtlety." Batman noted as he arrived at the area over which the image of a bat had been made in the sky by Firefly zooming through the air, leaving behind a burning and smoking trail as she did. She shrugged upon landing to converse with him. "I could say the same about you. Besides, I couldn't think of any better way to get your attention."

"What's this about?" Batman demanded. "And it should include a reason why I _shouldn't_ bring you in."

"It's about Selina. She's hurt badly and resting at my safehouse. She told me to find you and bring you to her."

This got Batman's attention immediately. "If you hurt her…"

"I saved her life!" Firefly protested, frowning behind her helmet. "I'm taking _care_ of her. She'd be dead if I hadn't found her, but she's still not doing good. She needs to go to a hospital. A _real_ hospital."  
"That's not possible." Batman said evenly before adding: "Take me to where Selina is. And if you're lying to me…"  
"I'm not lying. This may shock you, but I love her too, if not the same way _you_ do. She's my _friend._ "

"Alright, then. Take me to her."

At the same time this was happening, Nightwing was out on patrol again, still looking for Firefly and hoping to find her, but to no avail. He did however, find something else that caught his attention: a trail of blood, which, from the looks of it, was less than a full day old. Most of the blood had been washed away by the rain, so an ordinary person wouldn't have been able to follow it. But Nightwing wasn't an ordinary person. Shiva and David Cain's training plus the hi-tech eye-lenses over his mask both saw to that.

Deciding to follow it (and also neglecting to tell Batman the way he, in retrospect, probably should have), Nightwing eventually followed it all the way to a nondescript one story building that was exactly the same as virtually any other building of it's kind on any other street corner. The sort of building that people might wonder in passing what it's purpose was, but ultimately not caring enough to actually sate their curiosity. In other words, an ideal place for someone to hide.

With this in mind, Nightwing decided to come in through the roof, checking to see if there was any such entrance that he could exploit. Unfortunately there wasn't, forcing Nightwing to try the back of the building. The door wasn't locked, so Nightwing opened it and walked in. He tuned his mask's eye-lenses to night-vision which, sadly, wasn't up to par with the night-vision mode Catwoman's goggles and Batman's helmet had. In other words, Nightwing could see where he was going, but only just, and he couldn't make out much in the way of details as a result.

Cautiously drawing his escrima sticks and holding them at the ready, Nightwing continued to make his way through the building at a slow and steady pace, keeping his ears tuned for any sound not his own.

However, after making his way through the whole of the building, Nightwing still didn't encounter anyone. One room contained, upon very close inspection, a greater amount of the blood along with evidence that someone had patched themselves up. But there was still no one there.

 _Curious…_

Nightwing's ears pricked as he heard the sound of an arrow being notched followed by the whisper-like sound of it zipping through the air. Nightwing just barely moved in time, the arrow embedding itself in the wall Nightwing had been facing. Whipping around with escrima sticks drawn, Nightwing confronted the archer standing there in the doorway, and could tell from his bandaged up wounds and roughly repaired costume that this was the source of the blood trail he'd followed.

"Your back door was open." Nightwing said with a grimace.

"Who are you?" Prometheus demanded.

"What, you don't recognize me based on my costume?" Nightwing shook his head. "Name's Nightwing. Now, if I had to make a guess, I'd say you're the veteran murderer that everyone's been talking about."

"I am." Prometheus said simply. "There is much to that story that you do not know, vigilante. I suggest you stay out of it altogether."

"Well, I think I'll ignore that suggestion. I'm bringing you in."

Rapidly, Prometheus drew and fired another arrow as Nightwing advanced on him, but this one sent up a smoke cloud when it hit the ground. Prometheus used that to buy himself time to run out of the building, and Nightwing chased him through the smoke. Even as banged up and bandaged up as he was though, Prometheus still put up a serious chase, and Nightwing actually had to exert himself a bit in order to finally run him down. He tackled Prometheus and forced him down, which caused his bow to go flying out of his hand. He struggled a bit, but Nightwing was finally able to handcuff him, ignoring the gawking of startled and curious civilians as he did.

"We gotcha, you son of a bitch."

 _Two days ago_

"Are you alright?" Batman asked Catwoman as he approached her from where she was on the edge of a rooftop. The sky in Gotham was clearer than it usually was, and the moon was shining through much more distinctly. Batman put a hand on Catwoman's shoulder encouragingly, and she sighed at his touch.

"Just thinking. About my dad. And my mom."

"You don't usually mention them." Batman noted, before admitting: "But then...I almost never talk about my parents. Those memories are painful enough as it is."  
"Well, it's the same with me." Catwoman said, heaving another sigh as she did. "I didn't tell you or anyone else about my parents and who they were, because what was there to tell? A poor bum from Gotham City who left to fight in a war and then came back home to become an _alcoholic_ , poor bum from Gotham City. A mother who was a pretty Asian face he met while in that country and somehow convinced to come back with him. A woman _so_ dependent on her husband, so hopelessly attached to him, that she couldn't live without him." Catwoman shook her head. "I am **_never_** dependent on _any_ man, Bruce. Not even you. And now you know why."

"You fear being abandoned again." Batman noted matter-of-factly. "You may not believe this, but I can understand that. Never did I feel more lonely than after my parents were dead, even with Alfred looking after me. Not until…" Batman trailed off.

"Not until what?" Catwoman asked.

"Not until I met you." Batman said, daring himself to form the slightest of smiles behind his helmet. He caressed her back with the hand still on her shoulder. "Now you have the opportunity to learn more about your parents."

"Not sure I _want_ to learn. Think about it; he was part of a Vietnam War Veteran company that's members are getting hunted down and killed. Whatever it is they did down there, it pissed _somebody_ off. Which means it was probably not anything that would make me suddenly proud of my father instead of hating him."

"Oracle's looking into it, and so am I. The reports of Easy Company's activities in Vietnam are predictably covered in black ink. I'm thinking I may need to track down the man in charge of their operations to get the answers I need. And since my sources say he's currently in Gotham, I'll be able to."

"You mean the captain of Easy Company? Slade Wilson?"  
Batman nodded. "The then-captain, yes. He's not with the military anymore. For the last twenty years, he's been the top mercenary and bounty hunter on the planet. You might know him by his underworld alias: Deathstroke."

Catwoman's green eyes widened upon hearing that name, as well as becoming filled with a level of fear, concern, and worry that rarely entered them since becoming Catwoman. She also mentally kicked herself for not having made the connection sooner. The man's reputation was such that she should have realized it the minute she heard his real name.

"Deathstroke...you know what that means, right? He's not the kind of guy who just gives people things for free, not even information."

"I know." Batman said simply. "I'll need to…'persuade' him."

 _Back in the present_

When Selina slowly but surely opened her eyes, she was happy to see the sight of Batman looking down at her, even though a part of her wished it was the face beneath the helmet that she saw instead. But, she'd settle with knowing that he was at her side.

"Selina…" Batman put a hand on her shoulder gently. "What happened to you?"

"I was attacked by our veteran murderer." She said weakly. "At my parent's old home. He was looking...looking for my father. Didn't know that he was dead."

"Who is he?"

"Don't...know his real name. He calls himself 'Prometheus'." Selina made a bitter chuckle. "It's funny. If he only...knew...how much I hated my father...he might not have been so eager to kill me. Not that he knows I'm his daughter." She looked up at him with warm and understanding eyes. "Did you find Deathstroke?"

Batman nodded. "I did, yes. And he gave me some information. He gave me a motive. A reason why Prometheus is killing all of these veterans. With what you found out also, plus everything we already know, it's beginning to come together."

"Good to know…"

"But you still need to rest. Heal." Batman turned to Firefly. "I'm taking her with me."

"To a hospital, I hope."

"I told you, that isn't possible."

"And I'm telling _you_ that she needs to go to a hospital, not your house. I've stabilized her, but that's not the same as healing. I can't give her what she needs. I've used up most of the medical supplies I _did_ have just to get her this far. Isn't there _anyone_ she can be taken to?"

"Maybe...I may not like or trust the police, but I have my allies in the GCPD. One of them is Doctor Leslie Tompkins."

"The police commissioner's wife? You trust _her_ more than a hospital?"

"Yes, I do. Is she stable enough to be moved?"

"Hey, do _I_ get any say in this?" Selina asked with a frown. "It is _me_ you're talking about, after all."

Batman turned to look at Selina again. "Would you rather go to someone we can trust, or a hospital that would expose your identity on the spot?"

"Touche." Selina said before adding with a sly smile. "But I _was_ going to choose Dr. Tompkins, you know. I've known her since I was little."

"We both have." Batman conceded with a nod. "Alright then. I'll take you to her, and she'll do what she can for you. Then I'm going to find Prometheus and stop him."

However, no sooner had Batman said this did he receive a message to his communicator from Nightwing. Choosing to respond, Batman listened in to what Nightwing said: "There you are, old man. I've been trying to reach you."

"What is it, Jason?" Batman replied.

"Just thought you'd know...I found our veteran murderer. Just sent him to the GCPD."

 _Last night_

It was a cold, dark night out in Gotham City when both Batman and Catwoman went out looking for someone. In Batman's case, it was the mercenary Deathstroke. In Catwoman's case, it was a man she thought, hoped, could help her and Batman locate the veteran murderer before he struck again.

"You know, there really ought to be a better way of getting my attention."

"This isn't a social visit." Catwoman said sternly, though her being on the other side of a window muffled her voice a bit.

"It never is." Acknowledged the man in the white clothes and black leather gloves before he got up and walked over to the window and opened it so that Catwoman could come inside. She made her way in and looked around the apartment of one Roman Sionis, former heir to the Sionis Family Fortune, and now disgraced and with more personal charm and connections than money in the bank.

"Wow…" Catwoman said as she looked around the apartment. "...what a shithole."

"Right, like you and your boyfriend live in anything better."

"Actually, we do."

" _You_ used to live in a pretty crappy place as I recall."

"Yeah, and that place was a shithole too." She looked at Roman challengingly. "I'm looking for someone."

"Well, aren't we all? _I'm_ still looking for a woman who loves me for something _other_ than the money I don't have anymore. So far, no luck." Roman's joking smile faded as he said more seriously: "Who is it?"

"I assume you've heard of the veteran murders?"

"Yeah. Don't tell me you're expecting me to find _him_."

"I'm not. I want you to find this man…" Catwoman showed Roman Sionis the file of one Rick Flagg. "He's also a veteran, and if he's in Gotham, he could be next on the killer's hit-list. I want to see if I can't head him off."

"Sounds risky." Roman noted. "But I'll see what I can do. I'll ask around. But be warned; it will take time."

"I know that, Roman. Just make sure it goes quicker than last time."

"For someone who knows how to break into places and then get out without ever setting off a single alarm, you have a remarkably low amount of patience."

Catwoman smiled. "Oh, I'm patient alright. Just not when there's a crazy serial killer on the loose. I'll be back in a few days."

"You know I hate time-tables." Roman said as he looked over the file again. He didn't get an answer. When he looked up from the file again, Catwoman was gone.

Elsewhere, Batman had Oracle do a search for any recent activity from Deathstroke. Oracle's findings confirmed Batman's suspicions that Deathstroke was back in Gotham, which meant that Batman could "talk" to him after all. He knew that Deathstroke would have likely come into Gotham under the radar, so he didn't waste time checking around any docks or airports. Instead, he combed the heart of the city, making an educated guess as to Deathstroke's whereabouts based on contracts that had been put out on Gothamites recently. He determined that it was likely to be a corrupt politician who was actually due to stand trial for overseas money laundering. Evidently the people the man owed money to decided he needed to suffer a more "extreme" punishment.

 _The ironic thing is that hiring Deathstroke to kill him will just cost them **more** money. I suppose they just want to make a statement._

Sure enough, Batman soon spotted Deathstroke on a nearby rooftop. Already, the mercenary was taking out a hi-tech looking sniper rifle and aiming it. Batman dropped down behind him, and promptly moved as Deathstroke whipped around and fired the rifle. Snarling, Deathstroke threw the rifle aside and drew his sword.

"Now look what you've done. I just blew my cover. I may not get another shot at my target now, which also means I won't get paid. That's going to cost you."

"I know, Wilson. That's why I brought this." Batman took out an emerald he'd "acquired" during his time with the League of Assassins in Turkey, and tossed it to Deathstroke, who caught it.

"That emerald's worth twice what your clients were going to pay you."

Deathstroke looked at the emerald for a moment before turning back to Batman: "My being pissed at you aside, you know I don't do what I do for money anymore. I choose my targets on principle. That guy I was going to shoot? He's done worse than scam people out of their money."

"I wouldn't be surprised." Batman said evenly. "...but you don't get to decide who does and doesn't deserve to be murdered. That emerald's not just my pay to you to _not_ kill the man down there, it's also my pay to you for some information."

Deathstroke raised the eyebrow over his remaining eye. "Huh. Well _that's_ a new one. I don't usually get asked for that sort of thing."

"It's about your time in Vietnam. When you were leading Easy Company."

Deathstroke did a good job of hiding it, but Batman could still perceive an increase in tension to the man. Indeed, both his tone and words made it clear that Batman had struck a nerve, which in turn told him he was right to ask.

"That's a part of my past I don't share. I keep it dead and buried where it belongs."

"There's a man killing Vietnam Veterans across the country, Deathstroke. And the victims were all members of Easy Company. I know you led Easy Company, so if anyone has any idea of what's going on, it's you."

"You presume I want to tell you anything."

"Lives are on the line."

"Ones I stopped caring about in 1973. If this is an attempt at persuasion on your part, it's not doing too well."

"Then how about a wager?"

"I'm listening…"

"If I beat you, right here and now, in hand to hand combat, then you tell me what I want to know and leave Gotham City afterwards. If I lose, then in my injured state I probably wouldn't be able to stop you from trying to kill your target, or me for that matter. And either way, you can keep the emerald."

"You play a dangerous game, Batman."

"I tried to convince you to help on your own, Deathstroke. But if you won't do that…"

"...you'll appeal to my love of a good challenge instead. Fair enough." Deathstroke pointed his sword menacingly at Batman as he set the emerald down. "I was hoping to kick your ass at some point anyway."

 _Back in the present_

When Prometheus was led in through the front doors of the GCPD in handcuffs, it caused quite the uproar. Everyone, from cops to veterans still hiding out in the building, to suspects being held under questioning, all turned to see the man in the costume and mask be led in. Nightwing had followed right behind to make sure Prometheus didn't try anything. The awkward and tense silence lasted only a moment before several of the veterans began shouting at Prometheus, all of them bellowing obscenities, threats, and levelling accusations of "murderer". And despite the GCPD's best efforts to restore order, the veteran's righteous anger would not be quelled.

But, neither would Prometheus.

James Gordon walked up to Nightwing and his prisoner. "Thanks for taking this lunatic down for us. You're sure it's him?"

"He confessed to it. And I bet when you test his sword and the arrows, you'll find your murder weapons."

Gordon nodded approvingly. "Good. Alright then, let's get him into a room. I want to know just how he did what he did and why before the lawyers come."

And so, Prometheus was led through the GCPD to the jeers, taunts, and threats of the veterans (and even some of the police). Gordon personally dragged him into an interrogation room, had Renee Montoya go in with him, and then slammed the door firmly shut. He, Harvey Bullock, and a few others went into the other side of the room to watch the interrogation.

"Cute mask." Montoya began harshly as she looked at the stitched-together thing now held in her hands. With his mask off and hood pulled down, Prometheus' face could be seen, scars, injuries, and all. Despite being unmasked, disarmed, handcuffed, and in an interrogation room though, he didn't seem all that perturbed. Frowning in the face of this, Montoya said icily: "I'm gonna get right to it: you're looking at life without parole. Multiple life sentences in fact. We pin you to just _one_ murder, you're in jail for the rest of your life."

"Hm. I see. And...how does that give me incentive to cooperate with you? As you said, I am facing multiple life sentences for multiple counts of first degree murder. It stands to reason that nothing I say or do will change that. So then what is it you expect from me? Cooperation? Perhaps an apology?"

"Don't get cute. You wouldn't walk, but there's a _lot_ of different places you can go. You cooperate, we might turn you over to one of the other cities that wants your ass, and you go to a halfway decent prison. Otherwise, you can go to Blackgate. _Lot_ of desperate people in there. You think you'd last in a place like that?"

Prometheus' lips formed a crooked, unattractive, toothless smile. "Heh. That's funny. You're thinking I haven't _already_ lived among animals and wretches. What's also funny is you thinking that common scum could scare or threaten me."

"Tough guy, huh? Fine by me. We've got everything we need to convict you. You want to go to the worst of the worst, that's your problem, not mine."

"Maybe. But what follows _will_ be your problem."

At this, several gunshots rang out, followed by screams and more gunshots. Hearing all of this, Renee instinctively got to her feet as Gordon, Bullock, and the other officers on the other side of the glass also turned their attentions to the ruckus. For his part, Prometheus leaned back in his chair, and smiled.

"Oh, good. Right on time."

 _Last night_

"You're beaten, Deathstroke. _Yield_."

Now resting on his sword, Deathstroke snarled but nevertheless nodded his head. "Fine, fine. You win this round, Batman. What do you want to know?"

"Easy Company. I want the whole story. What happened in Vietnam, Slade?"

Deathstroke sighed deeply. "Alright, fine. I'll tell you: it was in 1973. War was winding down, at least for America anyway. We were all war-weary, tired, spent out. You know how it is with shell-shock. Anyway, it was on the North/South border. Viet Cong had ambushed us again. Was how I lost my eye, actually. We came upon a village after the firefight. They gave us shelter and patched me up. It's because of them I'm still alive."

"But something else happened didn't it?"

Deathstroke nodded. "Yeah. Turns out the village was where some of the North Vietnamese guerillas lived. And that was all the excuse some of the men needed to start shooting. With me still recovering, I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. All I could do was just lay there and listen. When it was all over, none of the villagers were alive. Men, women, children. All of them gone."

"Why didn't you report them?"

"Krullen put a gun to my head. Said he'd blow my brains out if I said a word. He was the ring-leader of the massacre. Him and that shit-stain Clifford Zmeck were the worst offenders. Of course, after I recovered and we were all back home, I blew the whistle anyway. But the government decided to hush the whole thing up. Invented a story and we were all told to just forget it and move on, unless we _wanted_ to get lined up and shot as war criminals. It was around then that I lost what little faith I still had in this country, and resigned from the army."

"So then the veterans killings _have_ been motivated by revenge?" Batman nodded. "I thought so. Suspected it from the start, but now I know just _where_ the revenge is coming from, and what's fueling it."

"Not sure who would be looking for revenge though." Deathstroke said. "I told you, everyone in that village was killed. Weren't any survivors. And not too many people knew about it. Again, the government shut it up."

"Maybe someone in the government decided to punish your old company."

"Eh, I doubt any of them would have the spine for it. And even if they did, why not just break the story? Why put on a costume and mask and do it yourself? Seems like a lot more work to me."

"They may have wanted murder, not imprisonment."

"I can understand that."

"Or maybe it's a member of Easy Company feeling a twisted kind of remorse for what his comrades did. You said it yourself, not too many people know about the massacre. But Easy Company did. Any one of it's members could have decided to punish the rest for their crimes."

"Maybe. But I guess you won't know until you catch the guy, huh?"

"Too true. Thanks for the information though. It's been helpful."

Deathstroke chuckled. "Now _that's_ a first. You, thanking _me_ for something."

"Don't get used to it." Batman said before walking off, as he did adding: "Get out of my city, Wilson. You got your pay, and we had our deal. So I want you out of here before morning."

And with this, Batman leaped off the rooftop, leaving Deathstroke behind.

 _Back in the present_

When Batman arrived at the GCPD, he was too late to prevent the shooting. By the time he went in through the doors, he could see numerous police officers on the ground, all of them bleeding from gunshot wounds but strictly speaking alive. The veterans who had been inside the GCPD had all fled the scene, save for a few who were dead.

"What happened here?" Batman asked Helena Bertinelli, a policewoman he had some history with and so recognized amid the crowd.

"Some...some freak in a mask showed up and just started shooting. Then he went to where we were holding Prometheus."

At this, Batman raced forwards through the GCPD, but as he closed in on the interrogation rooms, out stepped Prometheus, now with his mask back on and his weapons recovered...and with Deathstroke at his side.

"Batman...I was wondering when our paths would cross."

Batman ignored Prometheus and turned to Deathstroke: "So you're helping him?" Deathstroke nodded wordlessly. "You've been helping him from the start, haven't you? That target of yours was just a cover-story. You've been in on this all along."

"I told you Batman, I stopped caring about these men forty years ago. I _also_ told you that I choose my targets on principle these days. You shouldn't be surprised."

"How did you two meet?"

"In the League of Assassins, if you must know." Prometheus said. "We both got training from them at different points. I recognized Mr. Wilson and told him who I was. We've been planning this for some time. How do you think I was able to find where all of my targets were and know so much about them? Deathstroke provided that information."

"I'm sorry what for what happened to your village." Batman said. "...but I'm not letting you murder anyone else."

"You presume you've got a say in the matter." Prometheus said simply before Deathstroke rapidly drew and fired a shotgun. Batman got clear of the blast, the pellets shredding most of a desk behind him. Batman fired his grapple hook at the shotgun, but Deathstroke dodged it and fired again. Prometheus for his part fired an arrow, but Batman caught it and snapped it.

"Keep him busy." Prometheus ordered. "Ben Krullen and Clifford Zmeck still remain to be killed. And I don't want _him_ getting in the way."

As Prometheus took off, Deathstroke confronted Batman. "What do you care if he murders them? I already told you what happened in '73. Don't tell me you mind if scum like that dies."

"Zmeck and Krullen were the worst offenders, you said it yourself. Well, he's already murdered a lot of other men besides them. And even scum have families. I'm no murderer, Wilson."

"You've taken lives."

"Never murdered any."

Deathstroke's response was another shotgun blast that Batman moved out of the way of. Knowing Prometheus was still the greater concern, Batman ran off after him, but Deathstroke wouldn't let him go so easily. In a burst of superhuman speed and agility, the mercenary cut Batman off. Holstering his shotgun, Deathstroke drew his sword. "Time for a rematch."

Batman got into a fighting stance, but still growled: "Stand aside, Deathstroke. This isn't about you."

"No, it's not." Deathstroke agreed before running at Batman sword at the ready. He made a thrust, which Batman avoided easily. Deathstroke lunged again, and again Batman avoided him, rolling to one side. Deathstroke rapidly spun around and swung outwards with his sword. Batman ducked, and closed the gap, forcing Deathstroke to fight him more up-close. Several overhead attacks from Deathstroke followed, each one parried by Batman's gauntlets even as they increased in ferocity and speed. Batman finally managed to grab Deathstroke's wrists and tried to force his sword down into the floor, but Deathstroke kicked him away and swung out in a wide, arcing slash. Batman just narrowly ducked in time, the sword actually cutting off the very tips of the pointy ears on Batman's helmet.

Grabbing a smoke pellet, Batman threw it into the ground. This unexpected move gave Deathstroke pause for only a moment; hearing Batman as he tried to change positions, Deathstroke spun around and kicked Batman out of the smoke cloud and into an officer's chair and desk so hard he knocked over both. Rising to his feet, Batman hurled several batarangs, and Deathstroke deflected every one with his sword as they came...including the explosive one.

The blast sent Deathstroke flying backwards as though he'd been hit by a cannonball, scorching his armor and helmet and disarming him of his sword. Said sword clattered to the floor, it's prometheum composition ensuring it was still intact despite the explosive it had struck. Deathstroke's armor too had held, though it wasn't looking good. Deathstroke himself staggered back to his feet.

"Cheap trick."

"We both know you're just as averse to fighting fair."

"Not always." Deathstroke cracked his neck to one side before staring Batman down. "Just you and me. No weapons, no toys."

"Fine." Batman said. No sooner had he agreed to the new terms did Deathstroke surge towards him in a fury. Several rapid-fire blows came, the mercenary moving in almost a blur. Batman responded in kind, but even so, he struggled to keep pace. With each powerful punch or kick he narrowly parried, he found his legs threatening to buckle and his progress going steadily backwards.

Deathstroke did a wide, sweeping kick that nailed Batman in his helmeted head and actually caused him to spin before falling backwards. He recovered in time to block Deathstroke's next attack and retaliate with a punch to his head. Deathstroke's helmet withstood the blow, and he hit Batman hard enough to send him flying over another officer's desk and smashing into the ground.

As Deathstroke advanced though, a wing-ding sailed through the air and nailed him in his helmet. Deathstroke's head snapped back before snapping forwards again.

"I thought I took care of you already, boy."

"Well, I'm back for more." Nightwing said with a grimace before readying his electrified escrima sticks. He turned to look at Batman: "How are you holding, old-timer?"

"Fine." Batman replied humorlessly. He turned to Nightwing: "Find Prometheus and stop him. I'll deal with Deathstroke."

Nightwing nodded. Deathstroke tried to cut off his exit, but Batman threw a batarang at him that returned the mercenary's attentions to Batman.

"You said just the two of us. Well... _here I am_."

Taking the hint, Deathstroke ran at Batman again.


	4. Chapter 4

_Last Night_

After going to Roman Sionis, Catwoman next made her way to a place she had sworn she would never, ever go to again.

 _Funny how much life enjoys screwing with your vows, huh?_ Catwoman thought as she made her way inside.

No sooner did her feet touch the ground was Catwoman immediately assaulted with a merciless and repugnant offense to each of her senses. Her legs threatened to buckle and she fought hard not to shiver. The lack of attention that had been paid to the house that had been abandoned for years (and was never good to begin with), led to sights and smells that offended her eyes and nose. And her mind, that was hit hardest of all. All of the things that had happened in this miserable, small, dark, and dank apartment in Gotham City's East End that had gone out of it's way to violate the innocence every child was supposed to have. Her father's actions, which had taken every child's entitlement, and ripped it out of her before tearing it into little pieces.

 _Whole place still reeks of him too._ Catwoman thought bitterly as she looked around, shaking her head sadly. _But you could burn this entire building to the ground, the whole **block** even, and you'd **still** never get the rank stench out. _

Everywhere Catwoman looked, she saw a different ghost; damaged walls, broken furniture, and the beer bottles. On pretty much every table, there were bottles of beer. Some broken, some whole. Some having never been opened, others without a drop in them. More than one were on the floor also.

Catwoman stopped abruptly. "Come on out. I know you're here."

Sure enough, out of the shadows came the masked, dark-clad archer who Catwoman immediately identified as the veteran murderer everyone had been searching for. That he had a bow in his hand, a quiver full of arrows, _and_ a sword in a scabbard were all dead giveaways, to say nothing for how he was in the house that had once belonged to one of the names on his hit-list.

 _Looks like my coming back here paid off after all._ Catwoman thought with a grimace.

"How did you know I was here?" The archer asked, genuinely curious going by the tone in his voice.

"I have good hearing." Catwoman deadpanned before adding: "I knew you'd come here too. You were looking for Brian Kyle weren't you?"

"How do you know that name?" The archer demanded.

"You first. Why are you doing this? Going around killing veterans? And who are you?"

"Why is it that, anytime a person wears a mask, the first instinct on the part of others is to ask who that person is?" The archer shook his head. "Prometheus, feline. And my reasons for what I do do not concern you."

"Actually, that's where you're wrong." Catwoman readied her claws. "This city is my _home._ So when you kill people living here, I don't take it well."

"You would if you knew anything about these men. They deserved to die. I made them answer for what they did, which is more than your 'home' has done."

"What was it that they did?" Catwoman asked.

"No, no, I won't be telling you that. You're an obstacle, and you need to be removed from my path." Prometheus drew and aimed an arrow. "But I'm a reasonable man; tell me where Brian Kyle is, and if you know, I might just let you go."

Catwoman smiled darkly. "I can tell you that; the answer's six feet under. Gotham City beat you to it with Brian Kyle."

"That's unfortunate." Prometheus said simply before letting fly with the arrow he had aimed at Catwoman. She casually leaned her upper body to one side, easily avoiding the arrow.

"Was that supposed to scare me? I've fought and beaten _Green Arrow._ One arrow's not going to do it."

Prometheus' only response was to just fire another arrow, one Catwoman casually caught and tossed aside. Prometheus fired several more arrows, and Catwoman either dodged or caught each one.

Prometheus drew two arrows and fired them at once, but Catwoman caught them both before they could reach her and threw them to the sides after snapping each of them in two. Prometheus fired three arrows at once just as Catwoman was done throwing aside the two previous arrows. Catwoman kicked one of them away while simultaneously catching the other two. Breaking and discarding those two, Catwoman lowered her outstretched leg, stared Prometheus down, and smiled.

"Don't you think it's time to change strategies, tough guy?"

"Fair enough." Prometheus drew his sword and spun it challengingly. "Go in peace."

"Little late for that." Catwoman quipped as she ducked underneath Prometheus' sword slash. This kicked off an almost perverse sort of dance where Prometheus would continue to slash and thrust with his sword, and Catwoman would continue to avoid him. She spun, leaped, and just did everything she could to stay out of range of Prometheus' attacks. But even so, Prometheus was fast, able to nick Catwoman here and there with the tip of his sword and deal light cuts.

Finally though, Catwoman managed to kick Prometheus' sword out of his hand, the weapon spinning before embedding itself in the floorboards. Undeterred, Prometheus engaged Catwoman in pure hand-to-hand combat. Once again, Prometheus showed himself to be incredibly quick, evading Catwoman's attacks expertly while also being able to land several kicks to her stomach and back. He even managed to land a punch to her jaw that hit hard enough to send out blood, also sending Catwoman through the air and smashing into the small table filled with old bottles, breaking or knocking aside several and splitting the table in half.

Prometheus leaped at Catwoman to hit her while she was down, but claw swipes and kicks from Catwoman discouraged him and forced him back. Catwoman pressed her attack, doing what she could to force Prometheus back before he switched positions with her and did a leaping spin-kick that hit Catwoman hard enough to send her smashing into the wall.

As Catwoman did what she could to get back up in time, Prometheus went over to where his sword was and pulled it out of the floor. Catwoman unfurled her whip and tried to strike out at him with it, but Prometheus easily side-stepped out of the way. Catwoman closed the distance and re-engaged Prometheus, and finally managed to kick him back. Prometheus came running forwards again, swinging his sword with the intent of removing Catwoman's lovely head from her body. Catwoman ducked under the slash, but as she got in close, Prometheus unexpectedly drew an arrow from his quiver and plunged it into Catwoman's back. Catwoman cried out in pain, but was able to grab Prometheus' sword arm before he slashed her across the throat. This grapple held for a few moments, before Prometheus kicked Catwoman backwards again. The back-and-forth melee lasted for only a few moments before Prometheus drew another arrow and stabbed it in Catwoman's back. She screamed in pain and fell to her knees.

Prometheus went to reclaim his disarmed sword a second time as Catwoman broke up the two arrows in her back. She rose with difficulty to her feet, and she and Prometheus had a brief staredown before the battle resumed. Again, Prometheus forced Catwoman back, and though she dodged his sword strikes, she was unable to keep Prometheus from stabbing her with an arrow again, this time in the side. Catwoman gasped in pain and spat out blood, before narrowly diving to one side as Prometheus slashed at her again, his sword leaving a deep cut in the wooden support beam behind his target. She tried to run, but he was on her and brutally slashed at her leg. Catwoman screamed and fell down, all the while grateful for her catsuit. He could have sliced off part of the leg with a blow like that.

As Prometheus walked towards her slowly but purposefully, Catwoman let loose with her still good-leg, kicking Prometheus backwards before slashing at his mask. She tore through that, and also the flesh beneath. Prometheus howled in pain, dropped his sword, and pawed at his mask. He tore off the ruins of it, and Catwoman got to see his face:

He was not a young man, but he wasn't ancient either. From appearances, he would have been in his late forties, give or take. What stood out to Catwoman more (apart from the brutal slash marks she'd given him), was that the man was clearly of Asian background, and if Catwoman had to hazard a guess, Vietnam.

And in that moment, it all made sense to her.

"You are a worthy opponent." Prometheus said matter-of-factly, though his voice was still artificially masked by the voice distortion device worn on his neck. He gave a sadistic smile as he continued. "It is an honor, to claim your life."

Seeing her discarded whip, Catwoman put what energy she still had into diving for it. Prometheus was on her in an instant, and nearly ran her through before Catwoman kicked his sword away with her good leg. Making it to her whip, Catwoman managed to lasso Prometheus' sword-arm, pulling it away. She tugged, intending to pull Prometheus all the way down, but he resisted her efforts, leading to an impasse.

Standing up against her cut leg's wishes, Catwoman pulled harder, but still Prometheus refused to give. Drawing a shuriken with his free hand, he hurled it. Catwoman dodged it, but this forced her to ease up on her tugging, which gave Prometheus the chance he needed to break free. He ran at Catwoman, who dived to one side to avoid him. She ducked under his sword swing, but he quickly zipped around and delivered a brutal upward slash. Had Catwoman not been wearing her catsuit, this slash would have likely been fatal. As it was, it was still a deep enough cut and drew enough blood that Catwoman collapsed.

Prometheus stood over Catwoman, ready to finish her off. But, before he could run her through, Catwoman rolled out of the way, and slashed Prometheus on his arm. Snarling, Prometheus tried to strike out with his sword, but Catwoman slashed at his other arm, and Prometheus instinctively dropped his blade. Grabbing it, Catwoman stabbed Prometheus with it.

Prometheus stopped abruptly and looked down at his own weapon now sticking out of his stomach. "...huh."

Prometheus sharply backhanded Catwoman, sending more blood out of her mouth before grabbing her and punching her repeatedly. He drove his fists into her without mercy before contemptuously tossing Catwoman into one of the chairs so hard she left it in pieces.

"Did you _really_ think I would arm myself with a sword that my costume wouldn't protect me from?" Prometheus pulled the sword out as he said this, though blood spurted out and he staggered.

"You're...still... _bleeding_."

"Yes, you _did_ hurt me, I admit. But not enough."

Catwoman wanted to get back up, but she knew it was hopeless. At this point she was so badly injured that he would catch her if she tried to run.

However, in that moment of all things, there was a knock on the door. And a voice: "What the hell is going on up there!? Who the hell do you people think you are? Making all that damn noise. Do you hear me? Answer!"

Prometheus sheathed his sword and re-drew his bow. Then an arrow for that bow.

"Don't...he doesn't need to die…"

"If he opens that door and sees my face, he will."

"Open the fucking door!" Shouted the man on the other end. Prometheus instinctively turned to aim his arrow at the door, and Catwoman seized on that chance to smash through the nearby window. She could hear two of her ribs crack as much as feel them. Barely holding onto consciousness, Catwoman forced herself up and hobbled off, as she did hearing the sound of a man gasping in shock before being shot dead with an arrow. Catwoman shut her eyes tightly, did her best to block out the death she knew she wouldn't have been able to stop, and kept moving.

 _One more thing for you to answer for, Prometheus._


	5. Chapter 5

_Forty Years Ago_

Tuan Thi Ngo was awoken to the sounds of shooting and screaming.

It was late at night, and he and most of the other children had gone to bed. But now, shouts, screams, and gunfire were tearing through the once peaceful night. Tuan's heart pounded fiercely and for a moment, he was afraid to get out of his bed. But the screams only seemed to get louder, and finally the continuing gunshots prompted survival instinct to kick in and he jolted out of his bed. It was about then that Tuan's mother ran into their house. She grabbed his arm and the two ran out into the village exterior. When they did, Tuan saw a field of dead bodies, all of whom bearing clear signs of gunshot wounds. This one sight alone shattering his innocence forever, Tuan looked around him and saw homes in flames, and more innocents actively being shot dead. Turning away from these horrors to look back up at his mother, Tuan followed her as they continued to run.

Meanwhile, the leader of the massacre, Sergeant Ben Krullen, turned to his men: "Keep it up, boys. These people need to learn what happens when they assist the enemy. When they give _shelter_ to the enemy."

The soldiers with Krullen continued to torch more of the homes, some looting the homes of what few things they felt like stealing beforehand. One of them, Clifford Zmeck personally dragged out an innocent couple before shooting them both dead. Then, without so much as a blink, shot dead three more panicking villagers while he was at it. It was as is this was happening though, that Krullen took notice of Tuan and his mother fleeing.

"After them!" He shouted. "Leave no witnesses!"

Most of the GIs obeyed, but Clifford Zmeck became distracted by the sight of two teenage girls running in a different direction and pursued them instead.

Tuan's mother continued to run with him, past the borders of the village and deeper into the jungles. The sounds of the gunfire and the screams became steadily fainter, but both knew they were not safe. So instead, they kept running. Kept running until, at last, they came upon an entrance to the tunnels. The tunnels that had been the key to the Viet Cong's success throughout the war. The tunnels that had allowed scores of Vietnamese to suddenly, almost inexplicably, disappear in engagement after engagement with American forces.

Uncovering the entrance, Tuan's mother told him to go down and stay there, and to keep running.

"I'll be right behind you, my son." She kissed him on the forehead and told him to go. But, no sooner was he down and running did his mother cover up the hole again, as she heard the soldiers following and knew there wasn't time. So instead she just ran. The minute they spotted her, the GIs gave chase. The first few shots missed on the account of the darkness, but then one didn't. Down underground as he was, Tuan never heard the gunshots, and by the time he realized his mother wasn't following him, it was too late.

Back up top, the GIs dragged the body of Tuan's mother back to the village. Kruller kicked her both to make sure she was dead and also just for spite, and then spat on her too. Looking around at the burning buildings and the slain villagers, he didn't even flinch. "Well, gentlemen. I'd say we made our point."

"Oh my god…" muttered one of the other GIs, finally able to exit the building his fellows had barred him in now that the thing he'd been trying to stop was over. Taking stock of everything in front of him, Brian Kyle fell to his knees. "How could you…?" He shook his head. "No. No, I'm not letting you get away with this." Standing up, he stared Sergeant Ben Krullen down. "I'm going to report you. Report all of you."

"No, you're not." Ben Krullen said icily.

"Why not? Because you're going to kill me? That's treason."

Krullen shook his head. "No, not kill you. Not 'cause I don't want to, it's because, like you said, that whole 'treason' thing. All that court martialing business. No. None of that. No, you're not going to say a _goddamn thing_ , because I know you, Brian Kyle. I know about you, and I know about your plaything."

"My what?"

"Maria, that's her name right? That Vietnamese girl you found yourself while down here. What'd you do, Kyle? Promised to take her back home with you?"

It was about then that Clifford Zmeck returned following his chasing down those two teenage girls from before. His uniform was now covered in blood, and almost none of it his. He was also holding a knife that was similarly covered in blood. He looked up at his fellows and smiled. One of the GIs, Rick Flagg frowned in disgust.

"Ah geez, Zmeck. Why'd you do that? How many times did you stab them?"

"First one? One stab was all it took. Second one, oh...about twenty, thirty times. Maybe forty."

"Why?"

Zmeck shrugged. "She wouldn't stop kicking and screaming."

"Zmeck…" Sergeant Krullen began, which got his attention. "Do _you_ remember Brian Kyle's girl? Maria?"

Zmeck flashed a sadistic, dirty smile and nodded vigorously. "Sure do. Been wanting her for myself ever since I saw her with Brian Kyle. One fine ass and pussy she must have."

"Well, there you have it." Sergeant Krullen said before turning back to Brian Kyle and telling him in an ice-cold tone: "Listen here, Kyle: if you ever, and I mean _ever_ , so much as think about breathing a word of what went down here...then I promise you, I will keep your little bitch from coming on home with you. And not only that, I will allow Zmeck and whoever else is here that wishes it to do whatever the hell they want to her first. And I do mean _anything_. Do we understand each-other, Mr. Kyle?"

There was a long, long silence that followed this. Finally, Brian Kyle said simply: "Someone will speak out, Krullen. You can silence me, but you won't get away with this. _Someone_ will make you pay. Some day."

 _Back in the Present_

"Well, doc? What's the good word?"

"Your stable, and your wounds cleaned and bandaged. But you'll need time to heal, and it starts now. Just rest."

Selina sighed. "Hope it doesn't take _too_ long. Batman needs his Catwoman. And so does the rest of this city."

Leslie Tompkins smiled gently and placed a hand on Selina's shoulder. "Relax. It won't be forever. And, no offense to you Selina, but I think Gotham can survive a few weeks without you."

Selina raised an eyebrow. "Do we live in two different Gotham Cities? 'Cause I can't believe you just said that."

The two were interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. Leslie answered it, only to gasp in shock at how on the other end was a now very along-in-years Ben Krullen, with a gun aimed right at her.

"Make a sound and you're dead. Move aside."

Leslie did so, and Ben Krullen walked in before shutting the door. "Lock it. And pull down all the blinds. I don't want anyone walking in."

Leslie did as instructed, but as she did asked: "Who are you? What do you want?"

"This is the home of Leslie Tompkins and Jim Gordon, right?" Leslie nodded. "Good. Then that means I've got myself the perfect insurance."  
"Insurance?"

Krullen nodded. "Mmmhmm. That masked lunatic with the bow killed them all. Everyone except me and Zmeck, so far as I can tell. I don't care about what he did to the others, you understand. It's his planning to do it to _me_ that I've got a problem with."

"I can assure you, the police will…"

"Protect me? Yeah, I saw what good their 'protection' was worth. Pathetic, every last one of 'em. Well, I'm going to give the commissioner some incentive to step up his game, and also make sure that they kill the bastard. Because I want him _dead._ Not arrested, not in jail, **_dead_**. And I want to see the body. I want the chance to kick it and spit on it. My own…'personal' way of making sure someone's dead, you see."

"Think about what you're doing." Leslie said slowly. "When my husband finds out that you've taken me hostage, you'll go to jail. Is that what you want?"

Krullen shook his head. "No, but I want to die even less. And besides, you as my hostage can guarantee a lot more than just that freak with the bow's death. It can also guarantee me a ride out of here. Some place nice, I think. Like Mexico. Always did enjoy the sun."  
Leslie was about ready to tell him that his plan was crazy and it wouldn't work, but she bit her tongue. Especially since, one look in the man's eyes showed that he was, in no uncertain terms, losing it, and that it did not take someone with Leslie Tompkin's medical background to know it. Evidently, the thought of being targeted for death had already gotten to the man.

So, with all that in mind, Leslie said nothing. Ben forced her into the room, and tied her to a chair. And all the while, Selina had no choice but to watch it all unfold, utterly helpless as she was to do anything else. And, as much as she wanted to at least shout at Ben Krullen to leave Leslie alone, she knew that it could prompt the unstable man to shoot her, and she was no good to anyone dead, least of all Leslie or Batman. So she too, bit her tongue. For his part, when Ben Krullen saw Selina Kyle, he smiled coldly. "Oh, good. _Two_ hostages for the price of one. Maybe my luck's turning around after all."

 _Please get here, Bruce. And fast..._

Back at the GCPD, Batman struggled to get up. He was finding it rather difficult on the account of the two cracked ribs, among the other injuries he'd received from Deathstroke's superhuman blows.

"Admit it, Batman. You can't beat me. Not this time. Not without your toys giving you that ever-so-slight advantage you need to compensate for being weaker than me"

Slowly getting back up, Batman braced himself for more. Smiling at the sight behind his helmet, Deathstroke advanced slowly but purposefully.

"Know that you'll die with honor. Which is more than can be said for most…"

Deathstroke was interrupted when a jet of searing flame hit him from behind. Deathstroke screamed as the heated metal of his armor burned his skin before whipping around to face the source; it was Firefly.

"Go, Batman. I can handle this guy."

"He'll kill you…"

"I said go! Stop the other lunatic."

"I'd have thought you'd take _his_ side." Batman said as he took out his grapple hook launcher.

"He almost killed Catwoman. Go kick his ass."

Batman nodded. As Firefly flew in at Deathstroke and doused him with her flamethrower again, Batman fired his grapple at the lamp hanging over the GCPD entrance doors. Zipping through the air on the grapple, Batman kicked open the doors and ran out of them. As this was happening, Deathstroke had grabbed Firefly and pulled her down. One punch to the gut took all the wind out of her, and a second punch knocked her helmet clean off, the glossy black armor-piece flying through the air. Deathstroke wrapped a hand around Firefly's throat and began to choke her.

"Just a bit more pressure and I snap your neck."

Firefly forced a smile even as blood continued to run down her forehead and she felt all of her oxygen getting choked out. With one hand, she held up a thermite grenade...with the pin removed.

"...shit."

Letting go of Firefly, Deathstroke tried to run, but Firefly hurled the thermite grenade at his back. Throwing herself to the ground in the opposite direction, Firefly's costume protected her from the outer flames of the blast that licked her back. Deathstroke's armor, already scorched black and damaged from Firefly's earlier attacks and Batman's explosive batarang before that, was finally melted in full like it had been a suit of wax. But the man inside was still relatively unharmed. But as he was tearing the ruined armor and helmet off, Firefly reclaimed her flamethrower and aimed it at him, as simultaneously, cops who had been on patrol at the time of the attack finally arrived on the scene as well. They raced in and trained their guns on Deathstroke. He just looked up at them and shook his head.

"Idiots."

Getting up and moving rapidly, he was gone by the time Firefly thought to shoot out a jet of flame, and the other police either missed their shots due to Slade's speed and agility, or else became distracted putting out the fire that had started up from Firefly's own failed attack (and thermite grenade explosion before that).

As for Batman, once outside the GCPD he knew that Prometheus could be anywhere in Gotham, and so wracked his brain trying to find a way to track him down or figure out where he would go. Remembering as he did the different members of Easy Company, and how Prometheus had noted that only Clifford Zmeck and Ben Krullen remained, Batman decided to focus his efforts on pinpointing the location of their homes.

Batman knew he was unlikely to beat Prometheus to the punch; with Deathstroke having told the man everything there was to know about his former soldiers, Prometheus had a definitive head-start, and Batman was hard-pressed to close the gap between them in time.

 _But with any luck, I **can** get to where Prometheus will go in time to be able to follow him. Then I'll track him to his final target, and take him down._

It was a more desperate and haphazard plan then Batman would have wanted, but he was short on time and options, and it was ultimately the best plan he could think up at the moment.

 _I just hope it works…_

Meanwhile, in a different section of Gotham City, Clifford Zmeck locked the garage door leading into a massive drug lab that had been his and Ben Krullen's "business" for forty years. Ever since they'd come back from Vietnam. Zmeck looked around at the workers, many of whom paused from their cocaine production to stare blankly at him. He frowned, then glared, then shouted: " ** _What the hell are you fucking idiots staring at!? GET BACK TO WORK!"_**

This barking of orders sufficed to get the drug lab workers to go back to what they were doing, but Zmeck for one was not at all at ease. He knew Prometheus was still out for his head, and given their sociopathic and selfish dispositions, Zmeck knew he could not look to Krullen for any sort of protection, or vice-versa. They had worked together for forty years because it had been convenient, not out of any sentimental attachments. With this in mind, Zmeck went to his private room in the drug lab, and began packing the little "percentage" of the overall drug profits that he had saved up. His "nest egg for a rainy day" as he had sometimes called it. As he did, he shot a look over down below. It pleased him that the operations continued to run so smoothly. So many hundreds of thousands of pounds of cocaine, all of it ready to be sent out to Gotham City and beyond. The poor and run-down neighborhoods were favorite targets.

As he went down the stairs, Zmeck ordered the men in charge to make sure the cocaine went to the usual neighborhoods. "And don't forget about the little ones." He told them. "Just stick it in the ice cream or somesuch, and you'll get them hooked. Guarantee it. Stupid little brats are the worst suckers of them all."

"As always, sir."

Zmeck shoved past his toady after giving him this order, and ordered several of his men to accompany him to his home. He wasn't planning on staying in Gotham. Not when Prometheus was still on the hunt. He could always find someplace over the border to start up a new drug ring…

Several arrows flew through the air, each one finding a target in a man's throat. The remaining cartel thugs opened fire with their military-grade machine guns that their drug money had afforded them, and it did them no good. In mere moments, they were all dead. But, Zmeck took advantage of that to run. He didn't get far before Prometheus cut him off, though by that point, Zmeck had grabbed a pedestrian to hold at gunpoint.

"Should have figured you'd be here." Zmeck grumbled.

"You figured right." Prometheus said as he landed. "You know why I'm here."

Zmeck nodded. "Sure do. And here's what I think of it." He pressed his pistol's barrel deep into his hostage's neck. "You try to do anything to me, and I blow his throat out. We clear?"

"You're a spineless coward. Just like you were forty years ago."

"Screw you! I don't care what you have to say! You think I'm sorry for what I did? Well I'm not! So think about that, why don't ya? Huh? You think I'm scared of you!?"

"Alright then…"

Prometheus dropped his bow and held up his hands. "Shoot me then. If you're really not scared of me, then shoot me. Let the man go and take your best shot."

Zmeck thought about it for a moment. He looked hard at Prometheus. He thought about it some more. Then, slowly he moved his gun at Prometheus…

….the masked man surged towards him in an instant, grabbed his gun-hand, and forced it away just as Zmeck pulled the trigger. Prometheus twisted and there was a sickening snapping sound. Zmeck screamed in pain, let his hostage go, and fell to his knees, staring in horror at his now broken arm. For his part, Prometheus drew an arrow from his quiver.

"Wow. A spineless _and_ stupid coward."

"No, wait…"

Zmeck was cut off when Prometheus plunged the arrow into his throat. Blood spurted dramatically out of the wound. Yanking the arrow out caused more blood to spurt out, soaking Prometheus' costume in crimson. Undeterred by this, Prometheus stabbed four more times. Then, he drew his sword with his other hand and swung it at Zmeck's neck.

Now spattered with blood from mask to stomach, Prometheus turned his back on the now headless corpse, picked his bow back up, and walked off.

"Just one more to go…"

At the same time this was happening, Ben Krullen continued to try and get a call to the police commissioner, but with the building still being in total chaos and most of the officers inside either knocked out or incapacitated, he wasn't getting anywhere.

"Dammit!" Krullen snarled. "Answer the damn phone!" When no one did, he angrily slammed it down on the table. "Useless, useless, useless... ** _you're all so damn useless!_** "

"Guess you didn't think this through, huh?" Selina asked with a smug smile.

"Shut up!" Ben Krullen roared. "Shut your mouth, you stupid bitch!"

Selina rolled her eyes but didn't say anything further. She was still recovering from her injuries, and still immobile and without any gear or her catsuit. She wasn't exactly in a good position to be defiant.

 _Can't say I love being the damsel in distress though. Always hated that role…_

It was all of five minutes later that Ben Krullen decided to try calling the GCPD again, and again, nothing came of it. Snarling, he chucked the phone at the wall. Miraculously, it survived the impact plus falling to the floor with only a slight crack to its screen.

"Dammit. I'm not waiting any longer. I'll make it on my own, the cops be damned. But…" Krullen aimed his gun at Leslie. "...just to let the Commissioner know how upset I am…"

"Don't!" Leslie said, backing away and raising her hands.

"Gimmie a reason not to. And it better not be 'because it's wrong'."

"If you kill me, they'll hunt you down wherever you go. It's a lot harder to run with the police after you."

Krullen seemed to consider this, before nodding. "Fine. Consider yourself lucky." Then, he brutally pistol-whipped Leslie so hard he sent blood out of her mouth. "...but there's a little something to remember me by."

Krullen turned around and prepared to leave, but when he opened the door, he got a very...unexpected sight on the other end. And also a very, very unwelcome one.

"No...no, not you…"

Krullen tried to fire his gun in time, but Batman was on him in an instant, knocking Krullen's pistol out of his hand, breaking his arm, and for good measure, drove his elbow into the old war criminal's collar bone hard enough to shatter it. Krullen screamed in agony as he fell backwards and clutched weakly at his shoulder area with his still good arm. Batman was unmoved.

 _Should count himself lucky it was me who found him and not Prometheus._

After subduing Krullen, Batman went to check on Leslie and Selina, finding the former to be sporting a bloodied mouth and in shock but otherwise fine. Selina was still recovering from her earlier injuries, but (thankfully), Krullen hadn't given her any new ones.

"My hero." Selina said only half-jokingly, also reasoning that, if she _did_ have to be saddled with the damsel-in-distress role, Batman wasn't the worst guy to have as her rescuer.

"How did you know Krullen was here?" Leslie asked.

"I didn't. But I knew something was wrong. Multiple calls were made to the GCPD from this address. Oracle and I both detected it, and so I came here to investigate."

"That was Krullen. He was trying contact the GCPD to blackmail my husband into 'trying harder' where stopping Prometheus was concerned." Leslie said with a shrug. "The man was out of his mind."

"Well, it's over now." Batman said. "...for Krullen at least. And not just for what he's done here."

"Really?"

Batman nodded. "Even if they can't charge him with what he did down in Vietnam, the GCPD just got an anonymous tip leading them to a drug lab. Apparently both Ben Krullen and Clifford Zmeck were involved in it's operations." There was a pause before Batman added almost as an after-thought: "Another thing Oracle and I picked up, this time over police chatter."

"What do you think the odds are that Prometheus was the one responsible for that 'anonymous tip'?" Selina asked.

"Pretty good." Batman said with a nod. "One final piece of his revenge. Destroy his enemies, and destroy everything that was theirs."

"That does leave one question though: what are you going to do about Prometheus?"

"Let him come to me. Once word gets out that Ben Krullen is in custody, he won't be able to resist going after him again."

"So you're going to use Krullen as bait?" Selina asked before shrugging. "Fine by me. Honestly after all of this, I don't care if Prometheus _does_ manage to kill him."

"He won't. Not if _I_ can help it."


	6. Chapter 6

_One Week Later_

"Feels good to be back in costume again." Catwoman said as she continued to follow Batman as he made his "rounds" throughout the city, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of trouble.

"It's good to have you back too." Batman agreed with a nod.

Catwoman made a teasing smile. "Aw, so you _do_ care about me!"

"That was ambiguous?" Batman asked with a raised eyebrow. Catwoman smiled and rolled her eyes. "Wow. Do you _ever_ pick up on sarcasm?" There was a pause before she added: "But, in all seriousness, it _is_ good to be back. I missed getting to be out here with you."

"I'm still amazed you're already well enough to be out again. After what happened…"

"I heal fast, Bats. And as I recall, when Bane last came to Gotham and beat the crap out of you, it wasn't even a full week before you were out here scaring petty thugs senseless again."

There was a pause before she added: "So...how are things going with Ben Krullen?"

"You know how inefficient the legal system is, Catwoman. As always it's painfully slow. Krullen still hasn't been put on trial yet. But he _is_ in GCPD custody. And I'm still not convinced that Prometheus has given up. He's just taken the time to heal and plan. But he'll strike again."

"Remind me again why we didn't just let Prometheus kill the bastard?"

"Because as much as I view the the law and the system as broken and incompetent, I'm not a murderer, Catwoman. And besides, not everyone Prometheus murdered were necessarily as bad as Krullen. And, he almost killed you. Just for that, I'm taking him down."  
"Well, I can't say I'm not flattered by the concern. I do always love it when you do that whole 'Dark Knight in Shining Armor' thing. It's adorable."

"I'm serious, Catwoman."

"You're _always_ serious, Bats."

"And you? You can't expect me to believe that everything we've learned about Easy Company hasn't affected you."

Catwoman shrugged. "I don't know. I've always hated my father. Learning that he's a war criminal on top of everything else doesn't change much. I mean, how much more can a person hate someone else?" Catwoman shrugged a second time. "I just don't want to focus on my hatred, Bats. I just want to move on and focus on the good stuff in my life." She smiled at him. "Like you, for instance."

Batman was sufficiently struck by this that he briefly forgot the pair's policy of never referring to one another by their real names in the field. "Selina, I…"

An incoming transmission from Oracle cut him off. Batman put his gauntlet to his helmet's side and tuned in to the frequency. "What is it, Oracle?"

"Just thought you wanted to know; they're moving Ben Krullen. Preliminary hearings for him are going to start tonight."

Batman nodded his understanding. "Which means Prometheus might try to take a shot at him. Thanks, Oracle. I'll be there to keep watch." He turned to Catwoman: "They're moving Krullen. Prometheus may try to target him during the transport."

"Guess it's finally happening, then."

"Maybe." Batman said. "But we're going down there anyway just to be safe."

"I hope it does. I'm tired of waiting around for Prometheus to show up again."

As it happened, the transportation of Ben Krullen to the Solomon Wayne courthouse went by completely without incident. Batman and Catwoman followed the police escort, and staked out the building, but nothing happened. Inside, Ben Krullen got his preliminary hearing, due to be charged with not only breaking and entering, hostage taking, assault, battery, and making threats against the GCPD's chief medical examiner (and Police Commissioner's wife), but _also_ a dozen different drug-related charges in the aftermath of his and Zmeck's drug operation being exposed, and in addition to all of that his now 40-year old war crimes from Vietnam.

Curious to see how the preliminary hearings would go down, Oracle hacked into the building's security cameras and audio to show Batman and Catwoman what was going on. Most of it was just the two sides of the trial going over typical legal jargon and rhetoric, and things relating to the case that Batman and Catwoman already knew about. But what was more surprising, was the reveal that one other Easy Company member still lived, and that he was prepared to testify after forty years of silence.

"Huh. Guess old Rick Flagg managed to slip through the cracks after all." Catwoman noted, remembering how she had asked Roman Sionis to look into him the same night she'd fought Prometheus. Once the preliminary hearing was over, and everyone was coming outside, Batman and Catwoman scanned the rooftops looking for any sign of Prometheus. But then Catwoman saw one of the reporters down below and she realized that his face was scarred, and that he was wearing a long trenchcoat to conceal most of his body and part of his face.

"Bats!" Catwoman shouted, pointing at the reporter in question. Sure enough, as the reporters drew closer, one of them seemed to be in the process of reaching for something…

Acting on instinct, Batman hurled a batarang just as Prometheus hurled a shuriken. Timing it perfectly, Batman's batarang knocked Prometheus' shuriken out of the air and caused people to at once look up at where Batman and Catwoman were, and also focus on the man who'd thrown the shuriken. Police had tried to move in to intercept him, but he'd swiftly neutralized them with brutal hand-to-hand before bowling over several more officers (and reporters and legal people), to close in on his target. Krullen tried to run the minute he saw him, but two of the officers standing guard over him held onto him tightly as a third drew a pistol. Prometheus swiftly hurled a shuriken that embedded itself in the man's throat. Gasping and clutching at his neck area as blood spilled out, the officer fell backwards as Prometheus closed in fully, throwing off his trenchcoat as he did.

Swooping down via his glider-cape, Batman came down hard and fast, delivering a double-kick to Prometheus that sent him flying through the air and hitting one of the courthouse's marble pillars hard enough to crack it. Prometheus fell, but managed to force himself back up, drawing his sword as he did.

"You and your fellow costumed characters have an annoying habit of getting in my way, Batman."

"You're not murdering anyone else, Prometheus."

"I can think of at least a few more." Prometheus noted as he briefly looked at Krullen, before returning his attentions to Batman and lunging at him. Batman ducked under the sword slash, and backpedaled to block follow-sword strikes with his gauntlets. Then Catwoman came in too, striking out with her whip. She lassoed Prometheus' sword arm, pulled him towards her, and delivered a kick to his face, driving her boot's high heel into his nose and breaking it. Prometheus fell backwards, clutching his broken nose as he did. Catwoman flashed a cold smile of satisfaction. "Payback time, jerk."

By now, more police officers were taking aim, but the lieutenant in charge shouted at the rest to stand down. "Leave this to the Bat and the Cat."

The fight continued, but with it now being two against one, Prometheus found himself getting far more hits than he dished out. He'd duck under a kick from Catwoman, only to walk into a punch or two from Batman. He might parry or spin out of the way of more of Batman's strikes, only for Catwoman to come at him with her own rapid-fire punches, kicks, and claw swipes. Some of the latter had also left deep cuts in Prometheus' costume, tearing up the leather and even damaging some of the chainmail.

Prometheus alternated between kicks and sword slashes and thrusts, but Batman and Catwoman fought as one, each of them dodging his attacks and each exploiting a distraction that the other provided. Prometheus did finally manage to sharply backhand Catwoman with his fist, sending her backwards and up against one of the marble pillars, but Batman responded by surging towards Prometheus and punching him hard enough to draw blood. Prometheus recovered quickly from this attack before striking out with his sword again. Batman did what he could to block his sword strikes, but even when he failed, his armor deflected the attacks. When Prometheus swung down with his sword, Batman blocked the blade with his scalloped gauntlets. Making a slicing motion with his arms, Batman severed the sword in two.

Prometheus looked in shock at his broken sword for but a moment before he prepared to lunge again, before Catwoman's lasso wrapped around his throat. Pulling Prometheus towards her, Catwoman delivered several rapid punches with her free hand, as well as punishing kicks that rippled Prometheus' flesh, shook bone, and knocked the wind out of him. Prometheus tried to retaliate, but with Catwoman's whip still wrapped around his throat, he was struggling to get enough air in and out of his lungs. Catwoman though, was barely troubled by having only three limbs to work with. She kept up her assault, hitting him over and over, and driving him back, until finally, she spun around and heaved with her whip-hand.

The effect of this saw Prometheus launched through the air, Catwoman's whip untangling from his throat. Prometheus went sailing before landing hard on a metal car and tumbling off. As he tried to get back up, a well-aimed batarang sailed through the air and embedded itself in his shoulder. Prometheus howled in pain before slumping back down. As he struggled to pull the batarang out, the lieutenant and his men converged on him. Soon, they had him surrounded, with over a half-dozen machine guns all aimed at him.

"Prometheus, you're under arrest."

 _One more week later_

Despite the debacle that was Prometheus' attempt on Ben Krullen's life, the latter's trial progressed anyway. Thanks to Rick Flagg's testimony in conjunction with the recovered journals of some of the murdered Easy Company members, the man was looking at another guilty verdict to go along with the ones he'd already gotten for all the other things he'd been charged with (charges that all combined carried a pretty hefty prison sentence all on their own). It was as Rick Flagg was leaving the courthouse that Selina Kyle decided to walk up to him.

"Hello, Mr. Flagg? My name is Selina Kyle. I'm Brian Kyle's daughter, and…" Selina breathed in deeply and continued: "I was...wondering if you could tell me about my father."

Rick Flagg looked around before sighing and saying: "Look, Miss Kyle...I understand that the things my company did...I'm not proud of any of it. I just exposed Krullen's crimes in there, but I'm gonna be paying my debt to those people we killed until the day I die." He shook his head. "Your father and Captain Wilson were the only ones whose hands were clean that day."

Selina's eyes widened in surprise at hearing this. "What?"

"He tried to stop the massacre. Was the only one of the men who refused to go along with it. So myself and Tom De La Croix, we restrained him so that he couldn't do anything. The whole time I told myself that it was to keep Krullen or Zmeck from putting a bullet in his head, but…" Rick Flagg shook his head. "...I now know that I was really just being a coward, and that what I _really_ should have done was stand with him. But I can't do that. It's forty years too late."

"My father tried to stop it…" Selina muttered. Suddenly, it all made sense to her. All of those years of her father's abuse, all of the drinking, all of the despair and anger at the world that, try as she might, Selina was never able to understand, no matter how good a daughter she tried to be. It turns out, it did all of have a reason behind it after all. And now Selina knew what that reason was.

Lost for a few moments more in this new revelation, Selina finally recomposed herself, and said: "Thank you, Mr. Flagg."

Later, Selina snuggled up in her lover's arms as the two of them watched the sun set in Gotham City from the large windows in their home. They knew that the minute the sun fully vanished behind the horizon and twilight gave way to night, that they would be back in their "work clothes" and out on the prowl. But for the moment at least, they could spend some more quiet time together. And it was during that time that Selina told Bruce what Rick Flagg had told her.

"So has anything changed? With you and your father, I mean."

"I...I really don't know, Bruce." She smiled faintly. "It's ironic, huh? I hated him my entire life, and I wanted to tell him just how I felt for so long...and not only did I never get the chance, but now it turns out the whole time the person he _really_ hated was himself. I was just the poor, stupid little girl who didn't know." She shook her head. "I don't think I'm ready to forgive him, Bruce. Even after what I've learned. Maybe I'll never be. But...at least now, there's the chance."

Bruce nodded silently. They sat there in each-other's arms not saying anything more for several more minutes, until finally the sun vanished completely. It was all of five minutes later that the bat-signal shined in the sky.

"Looks like duty calls, handsome." Selina said with a smile before kissing Bruce on the lips.

"Mmm. Probably the Clayface Gang again."

"What makes you say that?"

Bruce shrugged. "Just call it a hunch."

 _Elsewhere…_

Tuan Thi Ngo's solace in his cell at Arkham Asylum was finally broken by the arrival of a tall, gaunt man with long light gray hair, a hooked nose, piercing eyes, and, so far as Tuan could tell, a Native American ancestry. He smiled at him as he entered his cell in full. "Hello, Mr. Ngo. My name is Joseph Blackfire. _Deacon_ Joseph Blackfire, actually. I was wondering if you might wish to confess?"

Tuan scoffed. "I have no shame for my actions and seek no absolution, preacher-man. I did what was right."

Keeping up his smile, Deacon Blackfire knelt in front of him. "I think, perhaps, you may change your mind, when you see what the Bible has to offer…" Sticking out his copy of the bible, he opened it to show that a part of it had been "dug in" so as to hold a knife. A small knife, but Tuan had made do with as little in the past.

Looking up at Deacon Blackfire, who gave him a wink, Tuan smiled. "Well...I do believe, good Deacon, that you have shown me the way after all…"


End file.
